


A Marriage Of Two Minds

by Browneyesparker



Series: A Marriage Of Two Minds [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Marriage, Romance, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/pseuds/Browneyesparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burned and disenchanted with love, Sherlock Holmes makes a very strange marriage proposal to Molly Hooper, and she agrees. When a marriage of companionship turns into something more, the brilliant detective doesn't have a clue on how to cope. Will he drive or away or will he win her heart? Rated T. AU-ish. Spoilers for 3x01/3.02</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

**Chapter 1 A Funny Kind Of Proposal**

“Do you think that you’ve moved on enough to marry me?”

Molly was so startled by his question that bowl she was holding slipped from her hands causing a tremendous clatter to echo through the morgue. She dropped to her knees, grateful for the distraction of having to clean something up. Sherlock knelt down too and turned the metal bowl over before helping her with the mess of the victim’s leftover lunch.

“Marry you?” She said, meeting his eyes.

“Why not, regular people do it all of the time, don’t they?” Sherlock answered.

But you’re not a ‘regular’ person,” Molly replied. “You never have been. Why are you so interested in getting married now? Is it because John got married?”

“Like I would get married just because my best friend did!” Sherlock scoffed. “Molly Hooper, do you _really_ think I’d do something like that? I never do something just because everybody else is doing it!”

Molly laughed, feeling a little bit braver. “Well, that contradicts your last statement, doesn’t it?”

Sherlock frowned at her and looked down at the mess that was still on the floor. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you just said that regular people get married all the time—”

Sherlock sighed impatiently. “I know what I said—”

“Sherlock,” Molly interjected gently. “What happened between you and Irene Adler? You two were a pretty hot and heavy item there for a while.”

“She didn’t want me, not even a little bit.  The entire six months we were together, she was just using me to get an old lover back. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. Me! The smartest man in the room tricked and used by a—” Sherlock paused and released a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have ever agreed to go out with her. I’ve always been better off without romantic entanglements.”

Molly ignored the last part of his statement and tried to console him. “I think you did know, but you liked her so much that you decided to let her trick you a little bit. Maybe you thought that having her for a short amount of time would be better than never having her at all.”

“I should have told myself that was the stupidest thought that I’ve ever had!” Sherlock retorted as he stood up and looked around for something to clean the floor up.

“Sherlock,” Molly said tentatively.

“What is it?” He asked not even bothering to look at her as he snatched a rag off the table and threw it at her.

“Why would you want to marry me? I mean I thought that you would have sworn off it since you’re coming off of a broken heart—”

Sherlock shook his head at her naivety. “Oh Molly, it wouldn’t be _that_ kind of marriage!  I’m talking about a marriage between two brilliant individuals. Our union would purely be based on our friendship and our ability to relate to each other on a more intellectual level. I am merely looking for a companion to share my life with that is all. So, will your previous feelings for me get in the way of something like that or have you moved on enough to be that for me?”

Molly stood up and straightened out her lab coat, she looked him straight in the eyes and nodded. “You know, I do think I could agree with that sort of arrangement if it’s what you really wanted.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed.

“ _Yes_ I’m sure,” she replied, disposing of the now useless evidence and then peeling off her latex gloves. “What about you? Are _you_ sure that _you_ won’t have trouble keeping up your end of the bargain?”

“Of course!” Sherlock answered, looking offended by her question. “Are you just doing this because your window of opportunity is closing?”

“Window of opportunity?” Molly repeated.

“To get married,” he clarified. “It’s perfectly fine if you are, I’m not going to judge you.”

Molly shrugged. “Does it really matter why I’m doing it? I mean, maybe in the back of my mind I _am_ thinking _what if_ _this is it? What if no other opportunity for me to get married comes along?_ But does that really matter? I’m agreeing to your terms, I’m going to be the kind of wife that you want. So, we’re both helping each other out.”

Sherlock nodded. She _was_ agreeing to his requests, most women – even those who thought their window of opportunity was closing – wouldn’t agree to a loveless marriage, especially if it was happening on the rebound. She was extraordinary.

“So, when do you want to get married?” He asked.

**.**

“You can’t just get married to a girl on the rebound Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson scolded him later on that week as she followed him around the flat. “Really, what are you thinking?”

Sherlock shrugged. “That I’m lonely and Molly would make a lovely companion.”

“But why are you getting married _right_ now? Is it because John’s gotten married and your feeling left out or is it for other reasons? Like that woman who was always around—?”

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Sherlock asked, glaring at her. “Maybe you could go and finish preparing my bedroom _before_ I bring the new Mrs. Holmes back.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled cheerily. “Of course Sherlock! But—”

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. _“Please!”_

Mrs. Hudson finally got the hint and left him to finish getting married in peace. Yes, he knew people were going to ask him questions about this unusual union, but he had gotten tired of explaining it three days ago.

There was a knock on the door, he turned around fully expecting to shoo Mrs. Hudson from the room _again_ but found Mary peering in at him.

“Hello Sherlock,” she said cheerfully. “Are you ready for the big day?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered confidently. “I haven’t got a hint of pre-wedding jitters. I hope that’s a good sign.”

Mary laughed and nodded towards his tie. “May I?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Be my guest.”

She fiddled with his tie and then made a pretext out of trying to tame is unruly hair. “Don’t worry about not having pre-wedding jitters, Sherlock. Marrying Molly will probably be the best thing you’ll ever do in your whole entire life.”

Sherlock looked straight ahead as Mary continued to fiddle with him. “You aren’t judging me?”

“Why in heaven’s name would I do that?”

“Because this isn’t a regular marriage,” Sherlock answered. “We’re not going to be married in the sense you and John are married.”

Mary stood back and looked at him, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a special kind of marriage for a special kind of person. Regardless of the form it’s taking, I think you will make a wonderful husband Sherlock.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend’s husband,” Sherlock said.

“No, I’m saying it because I believe it,” Mary assured him, producing a rose and tucking it into his buttonhole.

“Speaking of John, where is he?” Sherlock asked.

“He’s waiting for us in the kitchen,” Mary answered. “I insisted that he let me look in on you, I wanted to make sure you were ready and that you weren’t going to run. I didn’t need him assisting you in any escapes or trying to talk you out of your decision.”

“He disapproves of my choice,” Sherlock said.

“Hardly,” Mary replied. “I just think he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. You _or_ Molly, for that fact. I keep telling him though, you’re an intelligent man. You have to know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said sincerely.

Mary smiled at him. “My pleasure. There, you’re all ready now, let’s go and get you married.”

**TBC. . .**


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft was waiting for them when they reached the judge’s office an hour later. He greeted the small party and then took his brother aside to have a private conversation.

“You don’t have to do this you know,” he said. “Just because John Watson got married doesn’t mean you—”

“I am _not_ getting married just because Watson did!” Sherlock replied hotly. “I am _not_ in the habit of copying my peers, Mycroft! I happen to _like_ the idea of having a companion, of having somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. So, I am marrying Molly Hooper for that distinct reason!”

“Does she know that you aren’t interested in anything but companionship?” Mycroft asked, eyeing the pathologist with warily.

“She agreed to it, yes. Oh, get that look off your face! She’s a grown woman, I’m not forcing her into anything against her will.”

“You’re sure she understands everything this marriage does and doesn’t entail?” Mycroft pressed.

“Why are you questioning her intelligence like this? She is not a child! She understands _perfectly_ what this marriage means! I wouldn’t be marrying her today if she didn’t—”

“Sherlock dear, if you two don’t hurry up then we’re going to miss our spot,” Mary said, coming towards the brothers.

“Be there in a minute,” he replied, glancing at his brother. “Look, Mycroft why can’t you just wish me all the best and at least _pretend_ to be happy for me?”

Mycroft sighed and stuck out his hand reluctantly. “Good luck and all of the _very_ best to both you and Molly, brother mine.”

“Thanks,” Sherlock answered, satisfied that he had seemingly won the argument.

“I just hope the both of you really know what you’re getting yourself into,” Mycroft muttered as he walked away from him.

Sherlock deflated slightly at his brother’s words. _Well,_ he reflected sullenly as he trailed Mycroft, _you can’t have everything your way, not even at your own wedding_.

**.**

The vows went off without a hitch, Sherlock resisted the urge to give the officiate a hard time or rush through the ceremony, while Molly held his hand and looked just as radiant as a bride should on her wedding day. He kept stealing glances at her the whole entire, trying not to think about his brother’s words to him outside of the office.

They were two consenting adults, they were both entering this union with their eyes wide open. Besides, Mary and John thought it was a brilliant idea. And their opinion was the only one that really mattered to him.

“Sherlock,” John hissed, elbowing him out of his thoughts. “Concentrate! You need to say _I.Do_!”

“Oh, _right_!” Sherlock answered, he looked down at Molly and bestowed her with his best smile. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Sherlock froze for a second, he’d conveniently forgotten all about this part of the ceremony, he rallied himself quickly and laid the lightest of kisses on her lips, she hesitated for a moment then she shyly reciprocated it. After a sufficient amount of time, he pulled away from the lip lock and really took the time to look at her.

Molly’s eyes sparkling in the florescent lights of the office and she was looking up at him with a smile that said all the things that she wasn’t saying. He smiled back at her, his was a little more uncertain than her’s. And then, the tension was broken by Mary stepping between them and giving them both a hug at the same time while she congratulated them enthusiastically.

Mary, Sherlock knew, would be the biggest supporter of the unconventional marriage, one of their only.  When John stepped up beside his wife and hugged them each in turn, Sherlock deduced his best friend could be persuaded by his wife to support them despite his qualms. The person he was most worried about was his brother, who was currently checking his e-mails on his smart phone, but then Mycroft slipped his phone in his pocket and came over to join them.

“Molly,” Mycroft said, glancing sideways at Sherlock and then giving her a small hug. “Welcome to the family.”

Sherlock didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until it left his lungs in one great whoosh. 

“Thank you Mycroft,” Molly answered, turning _that_ smile on him.

Mycroft looked at his brother and told him with his eyes that he was going to play nice and try not to judge his life choices.

“Thank you,” Sherlock mouthed, glad that his brother was in his corner as well.

“Mum and dad are going to be coming for a visit soon,” Mycroft told them with a sly smile. “So, you should prepare yourselves for that. Anyways, I have to go now. Have a good rest of your day, and all the best to the both of you.”

**.**

They finally returned to Baker Street after an extended dinner at John and Mary’s. Molly felt a touch of awkwardness at being left alone with Sherlock. She’d been alone with him lots of times before but this time there was an air of intimacy. She felt it even more acutely than the one time they’d spent the day solving cases together. If he felt her tension, he ignored it brilliantly as he showed her around the flat and told her to make herself at home before disappearing into the bathroom.

Molly thought he was getting ready for bed, but a few minutes later, he came out still dressed in his suit and tie.

“I have things to do,” Sherlock said. “Feel free to do whatever it is you do before bed. I’ll be in shortly.”

Molly nodded and put her bag down on one of the two beds in the room, he smiled at her before slamming the door shut. She released a breath as the first strains of _Bach_ filled the air in a style that was distinctly Sherlock. She padded to the door and opened it quietly. Peering out, her hunch was confirmed that her new husband was the one making music, his eyes shut tight in concentration. She watched him for a while and then closed the door with a sigh.

She didn't feel bad, not really. She knew what she was getting into when she had agreed to marry him, even if it wasn’t just a marriage of companionship there was still going to be quirks. After all, she _was_ married to one of the century’s most brilliant minds.

She turned away and was about to prepare herself for the first of many evenings alone, when Sherlock came back in their bedroom.

“Sorry about that,” he said, undoing his tie and discarding it carelessly. “I forgot that the wedding night is important.”

“I thought—”

“Just because we’re not going to do _that_ doesn’t mean you have to go to bed alone,” he answered. “Not tonight, anyways.”

Molly looked at him wordlessly.

“Well?” He asked looking at her, his shirt halfway off. “Aren’t you going to get ready for bed too?”

“Yes,” Molly finally replied, scrounging around for her toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’ll just go and brush my teeth. . .”

Sherlock nodded. “Right, right. I’ll be done here in a minute and then you can get changed.”

Molly smiled at him weakly and disappeared into the bathroom. Maybe being married to Sherlock wouldn’t be as predictable as she thought it would be.

**TBC. . .**

**.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sherlock spent most of the night lying awake, listening to Molly’s breathing. It was a new experience for him, to have another warm body only a few feet away from his bed. His wedding ring was still heavy on his finger, having the foreign object there wasn’t second nature to him yet, the metal burned his finger reminding him of the weightiness of his decision to marry.

He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, wishing his thoughts a million miles away. But his mind wasn’t that kind to him, the _what ifs_ and _could be’s_ from the weeks following up to the wedding continued to badger him mercilessly. Finally he had had enough tossing and turning and trying to shut up his brain. He grabbed his bathrobe from the end of his bed and quietly slipped out into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Molly joined him.

“What’s the matter Sherlock?” She whispered as she took the kettle off the stove and brought it to the sink to fill it with water.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered. “The tea’s in the cabinet next to the stove.”

“I figured you couldn’t sleep,” Molly said, rummaging through his assorted teas until she found chamomile. She retrieved two mugs and plunked the tea bags in them. “What’s on your mind?”

“A dozen different things,” Sherlock answered. “I usually can do a better job in getting it to quiet down. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”

Molly leaned against the counter and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. “Well, things are a little different tonight, aren’t they? Your whole environment has changed, you’re a husband now and it’s been a long day. It would be hard for anybody to get their minds to shut down under those circumstances. But you aren’t just anybody, are you?”

“Molly, things aren’t ever going to be really normal around here, you know. Did you _really_ think about marrying me? Or did you just say yes because it _was_ me or you didn’t think anybody would ever really come along and—?”

Molly smiled. “I know. There are going to be nights you come home late, if you come home at all. There will be times that there will be things other than food in the refrigerator. We probably won’t bare our soul to each other or have passionate sex. We’re probably never going to do it at all. But none of that matters to me. And yes, I might have said yes just because it was you. . . but at the same time, maybe I did think nobody else would want me if I didn’t say yes to you and your unconventional marriage.”

The kettle whistled and she turned around to prepare the tea.

“I think lots of men would have wanted you if you had just waited and not said yes to me,” Sherlock told her tentatively. “Is that the right thing to say in situations like this?”

Molly turned around, tea in hand, and smiled at him as she approached the table. “Yes Sherlock, that is the right thing to say. It’s actually very sweet of you to say, but it isn’t true. Drink your tea, maybe it’ll help you relax.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, he just drummed his fingers on the table and accepted the tea from her. Finally, he raised the mug to his lips and took a long sip. “I have honey,” he finally said. “If you’d like.”

“I’ll get it,” Molly offered, getting ready to push her chair away from the table.

“It’s okay,” Sherlock answered, getting to his feet and retrieving the honey from the top of the fridge. He plopped it down on the table.

“Sherlock. . .” Molly said, uncapping the honey and putting a spoonful of the golden syrup in her tea. She stirred it ‘round and ‘round without any real intention to drink the steaming liquid in front of her.

“Maybe you should drink it too,” Sherlock answered, taking the honey from her and adding it to his own drink. “Look at you; you’re just as worked up as me and it’s all my fault.”

Molly shook her head. “No, it’s my fault. Come on, drink up. The day will start before you know it and you want to get some sleep before it does.”

Sherlock nodded, even though he knew that he probably still wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all.

When they were finished with their tea, Molly took him by his wrist and led him back to their bedroom. She tucked him amidst his protests and turned out the light, bidding him goodnight. The next thing he knew, he heard the shower shut off and his eyes were half-glazed over with sleep.

Molly came out of the bathroom in an oversized bathrobe and with her wet hair over the side of her shoulder. She smiled at him and opened her suitcase. “Good morning Sherlock. It looks like you got some sleep,” she said.

“I guess I did,” Sherlock answered, sitting up and straightening out his sheets. “Good morning Molly, I hope _you_ slept well.”

“Quite,” Molly replied. “I’ll be out in a few seconds and then I’ll start breakfast. You’re not on a case, so I’m assuming that you’ll eat something this morning?”

“I guess so,” Sherlock said dismissively. “But there isn’t anything to eat in the refrigerator as of right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll go to the market after my shift at work is over. Get out of bed and get ready for the day, we can have breakfast at the cafénear the hospital. Ours might not be a conventional marriage, but I still want to keep some tradition.”

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Sherlock answered.

“Try and hurry Sherlock, I don’t have much time before work.”

Sherlock huffed and pushed the covers away. “Fine,” he drew out, not caring that his annoyance at a break in his routine was glaringly obvious.

Molly smiled, ignoring his bad mood. “Thank you,” she said, closing the bathroom door.

**.**

“Black, two sugars?” Molly asked as she ushered him into a caféthat smelled strongly of coffee and pastries.

“Naturally,” Sherlock answered.

“Their breakfast sandwiches are to die for,” Molly told him. “Do you want one?”

“I guess so,” Sherlock replied, shrugging. “I mean, yes that would be nice.”

“Would you mind getting us a table while I go and place our order?”

“I guess not,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock. . .”

“Of course I’ll get us a table. If that’s what you want,” Sherlock answered, smiling at her inspite of himself.

Molly looked surprised for a second and then she smiled too. “Thank you, I’ll join you in just a minute.”

A few minutes later, she sat down across from him and put a tray in the middle of their table. She put his coffee down in front of him and settled down in her chair.

Sherlock took a sip and nodded approvingly. “This is very good.”

“Good,” Molly said, slathering an English muffin with butter and marmalade. “So, did you finally get to sleep last night?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Thank you for making me tea. . . for listening to me talk.”

“No problem,” she answered, taking a bite of her toast. “Anyways, do you want to meet me at the market or can I just bring whatever home?”

“If I don’t have a case, I guess I’ll meet you at the market. If I’m not there, just bring whatever home. I probably won’t be eating half the time, and when I do I’ll just eat whatever. I see that look, just because I’m married now, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to put on any unnecessary weight.”

Molly laughed. “Of course not Sherlock. So, switching gears, I was wondering if it would be okay if I did so redecorating? I mean, our room is fabulous, but—”

“Do whatever you’d like,” Sherlock said dismissively.

“Shouldn’t I consult with Mrs. Hudson first?”

“I don’t see why you should,” Sherlock replied, finally starting in on his breakfast. “Whatever changes you make will only increase her property value if she ever decides to sell the flat.”

“I’m still going to talk to her, just in case,” Molly decided, pulling a notebook from her bag.

“If it makes you happy,” Sherlock said, sipping his coffee and watching as she jotted down notes. “You better hurry up though, you don’t want to be late for work.”

Molly looked up. “Ohhhhh! You’re right, I have to go! I’ll see you after work. If you get a case, please don’t forget to call me!”

“I’m sure if I do then John will remind me to,” Sherlock answered, putting his cup down and clearing his throat. “Have a good day at work.”

For the second time that morning, Molly looked surprised and then she smiled at him. “You have a good day too.”

Sherlock nodded and pulled out his phone, proceeding to check his e-mails like she wasn’t there at all.

Molly shrugged and gathered up her things, patting Sherlock’s shoulder as she passed him. She didn’t mind that he hadn’t waited for her to leave to look at his phone, he had already exceeded her expectations in more ways than she could describe.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating this story. I have been sidetracked by rewatching the first season of Glee. (I forgot how addictive it was). I promise that the next time, the delay won’t be so long. If you liked this chapter, please drop a review and tell me. I cannot wait to see your feedback. Oh, and if you are so inclined, you can follow me on Twitter @golightlyholly2 and tumblr at browneyesparker. I don’t always follow back, but I DO always reply to tweets and asks in my ask box. So, I’m looking forward to hearing from you.
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 2/10/2014_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He wound up meeting her at the market because he wasn’t able to find a case that was going to hold his interest. He trailed her while she purchased all the things that he didn’t have in the kitchen and some extras. She didn’t even ask for his approval on any of the things she was putting into her basket. She had fallen into the role of his wife so easily that he was almost astounded.

“Did I do alright, Mr. Holmes?” She asked as they walked home together.

“You bought the wrong brand of coffee,” Sherlock answered, shrugging. “But other than that, I don’t have any complaints.”

“Oh. . .” Molly trailed off. “Well then, the next time just tell me what kind of coffee you’d like and I’ll buy that instead.”

Sherlock nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “Did you have a good day today?” he asked.

“It was okay,” she answered. “I had a lot of backed up paperwork that needed filing. It kept me occupied for most of the day. What about you? Did _you_ have a good day?”

He grunted. “Eh, it was okay. I had a bunch of clients visit, but their cases were relatively easy. A four at best, so I was rather bored.”

“Oh. . .” Molly trailed off. “Well, is there anything particular that you’d like for your supper tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock answered. “I wasn’t really thinking about food to be quite honest.”

“Naturally,” Molly replied. “Well then, I’ll just have to see what I can come up with when we get home.”

“You don’t _have_ to cook dinner, you know. I wouldn’t miss it if you didn’t,” he told her.

“Cooking really isn’t going to be any problem, Sherlock. I’ve mastered the art of throwing quick meals together. You can eat with me or not, it’s entirely up to you.”

Sherlock nodded. “Right,” he said.

“Now, I was wondering if you’d heard anything about your parents coming for a visit?”

“No,” Sherlock answered. “And we’re probably not going to, Mycroft will probably orchestrate the whole visit and then spring it on us.”

“Oh. . .” Molly trailed off and bit her lip.

“Don’t worry about it, if that happens then I can blackmail him into taking them back until you think you’re fully prepared to have visitors.”

“It’s okay,” Molly answered. “If they show up unexpectedly than we’ll just have to deal with it. I would like to start decorating as soon as possible though, I’ll discuss it with Mrs. Hudson tonight.”

“You do that,” Sherlock said. “Well, where home again. Are you going to need my help putting food away?”

“Well. . . since you know where everything goes and I’m still trying to get my bearings in new surroundings.”

Sherlock nodded and unlocked the front door. “Come on, I’ll try and help you. I’m not exactly sure of the system John has in place though. But we can figure things out together, okay?”

Molly smiled and nodded in return. “Okay,” she agreed.

Together, unpacking the groceries didn’t take them too long. They got a system going between them and Molly had dinner started in no time.

An hour later, they were sitting down at the table.

“I don’t think I’ve eaten at the table since I’ve moved in here,” Sherlock commented as she served him a generous helping of pasta.

“Really?” Molly asked. “Why ever not?”

“I’m usually too busy with a case to eat and if I am hungry or thinking about food, I usually just grab a quick bite to eat,” Sherlock answered. “I know that it’s the same for you, you’re usually busy with work and then you don’t want to bother with a meal for one, so you eat whatever is fast and convenient.”

“Well, neither of us have to eat alone again,” Molly said, smiling at him.

“Unless I’m working on case,” Sherlock reminded her.

“Yes, unless you’re working on a case,” she agreed.

They both fell quiet after that, concentrating on their meals and unsure of what to say next. Molly could have said a million things, she already felt like they had been together for a lifetime. Sherlock on the other hand was still trying to figure out what he was doing, being a husband was still a foreign concept to him. He was so afraid that he was going to fail and he couldn’t fail, he had never failed at anything before.

He especially couldn’t lose Molly.

This thought made his heart stop for a second and he swallowed hard, quickly deleting it from his mind palace as quickly as possible. If he lost her then he lost her, such was life.

But looking at her sitting across from him – tired but contented – he really, _really_ didn’t want to lose her. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of that one thought from his mind.

When they were finished eating, she left him with kitchen duty and went to talk to Mrs. Hudson about her redecorating project.

As Sherlock scrapped spaghetti into the trash, he was struck by how domestic his situation was all of a sudden. He _never_ did dishes, he usually left them (and most other clean up duties) for John or Mrs. Hudson. He looked at the dirty plates with disgust and was tempted just to chuck them in the trash bin with the leftover bits, but he knew that Molly would probably discover them and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her reaction to _that_.

Sherlock hadn’t been at the dishes long when his wife returned and took the sponge from him.  

“Well?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, she said that we could do whatever we wanted with the flat,” Molly answered. “She thinks it would raise the property values and whatnot.”

“That is exactly what I said,” he reminded her.

She smiled at him sweetly, not giving him the benefit of being right for even a second. “Sherlock, would you be a love and dry the dishes?”

Sherlock was slightly put out that she wasn’t praising his deduction abilities, but he picked up a towel and started to wipe the silverware dry anyways.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be, but I was out of town all weekend for my friend’s wedding reception (he got married in New York, and we had a party for him when he came back home from his honeymoon because most of us couldn’t be there), and then I’ve been bogged down with allergies because we’ve had a sudden wave of warm weather where I live. But I hope you like what I wrote anyways. Please leave a review if you did!  
> Until next time.
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 2/19/2014_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sherlock came home a few weeks later to find Molly elbow-deep in light blue paint and music blasting from a CD player that wasn’t his.

“Hello,” she said, not looking away from the wall she was painting. “Your brother called today, he’s sending your parents our way tomorrow. I’m trying to get things put together before they get here.”

“Very well,” Sherlock answered.

“Hold on a second,” she stopped him. “Aren’t you going to tell me about your day?”

“I solved a case,” Sherlock replied.

“Mmmh,” Molly encouraged.

“The case was a three as you know, it should have taken a shorter amount of time than it did. But some of the people I questioned were completely uncooperative. It was almost like they didn’t want the perpetrator to get caught. After that, John and I stopped by his flat to have lunch, he’s worried about Mary because it’s so close to her due date, or something like that.”

“I know,” Molly said. “Mary came and took me to get coffee, she says that John has become totally overprotective these days. It’s driving her mad.”

“Yes, well John has always been overly cautious.”

Molly laughed. “She says that you’re worse than John, Sherlock.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, instead he tossed his Belstaff off and plopped down in his chair. “I suppose I should ask you about your day now.”

“You can if you’d like.”

“I don’t have to though, I can tell just by looking at you that you didn’t have a good day.”

“I didn’t have the best day,” Molly answered. “There was some trouble with the paperwork that I filed yesterday, I had to redo it. That put me behind on my lab work, then I got the call from Mycroft that your parents are in town and that he was tired of them, so he was going to send them over to visit us and I realized the flat was still in shambles.”

“Well, shambles might be too strong of a word for the state of our flat right now, but I can see why you wanted to get things in order. Very well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

“If you’re hungry, there are some leftovers on the stove,” Molly told him.

“Thank you, but I think I’m just going to skip supper and call it a night. I’ll see you in the morning Molly.”

“Okay,” Molly agreed. “Goodnight Sherlock.”

“Goodnight,” Sherlock answered, slamming the bedroom door shut.

A few minutes later, the mournful sound of his violin was being mixed with her more cheerful bubblegum pop. Molly smiled to herself and turned off the CD player with her big toe. She closed her eyes for and let the classical piece wash over her for just a moment before she continued to paint the living room.

**.**

The next morning, Sherlock found Molly sleeping on the couch. There was a streak of paint on her cheek, and the brush was dangling from her hand but the living room was completely finished. He smiled at his wife’s determination, realizing once again how she was one of his greatest assets and just how lost he would be without her.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked, blinking and sitting up. “Is it morning?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered. “What time did you get finished with the living room?”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered. “The sun was starting to come up though. I just lay down for a few minutes, I was so tired. I’m still a little tired, actually. Are your parents here yet?”

“Not yet,” Sherlock replied. “But knowing Mycroft, they could show up at any time. No time is too early or too late when he wants to get rid of them.”

“I’ll just nip into the bathroom and get cleaned up then,” Molly said, covering her mouth as she yawned. “Do you mind putting some coffee on? Never mind, I’ll just do it before I shower.”

Sherlock trailed her. “It isn’t that I don’t want to make coffee, it’s just that I—”

“Don’t know how?” Molly volunteered, smiling at him. “Oh Sherlock, I already know that. I realized it about a month ago when your excuses kept getting wilder and wilder. I’m surprised that somebody as brilliant as you doesn’t know how to make something as simple as a pot of coffee.”

“I know how to make coffee, it just winds up tasting like mud.”

Molly rolled her eyes and handed him the coffee tin. “Here, I’ll walk you through the steps. I’m pretty sure you’ll be making it perfectly in no time at all.”

A few minutes later, the coffee pot was perking cheerfully and she was slipping out of the kitchen to get ready to meet her new in-laws. When she returned, Sherlock was sitting at the table with a mug in front of him and a book propped up on the vase of flowers. He looked up and frowned.

“Really Molly, there’s no need to put all that effort in. It’s just my parents.”

“I just want them to like me,” Molly answered, touching her lips self-consciously. “Is it really too much?”

“They will like you though,” Sherlock told her. “If only because you chose me.”

Molly smiled inspite of herself and filled a mug with coffee. “I don’t think my parents would have known what to make of you.”

“People rarely do,” Sherlock answered.

“I think they still would have liked you though,” she told them. “Especially if they’d thought being with you made me happy.”

Sherlock frowned. “Does it though?”

“What?”

“Does being with me make you happy?”

“It does,” Molly answered. “It really, really does. I know the situation isn’t ideal, that most women would rather die than enter into the kind of marriage that we have. But it works. I don’t feel like there’s anything missing. Really Sherlock, stop being so insecure I’m not going anywhere.”

Sherlock laughed. “Ha! Who said anything about you going anywhere? That was the furthest thing from my mind, actually.”

Molly’s lips twisted into an odd kind of smile. “Well, then stop questioning our relationship, or I might start to think that _you_ want something more than what we agreed to.”

“I most certainly do _not_!” Sherlock retorted, the laughter dying in his throat.

“Okay,” Molly answered. “Since you skipped supper last night, you must be hungry. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

They were right in the middle of eggs and pancakes when there was a knock on their door.

“That will be Mycroft,” Sherlock said, getting up from the table. “Come along Molly, let’s get this over with.”

Molly nodded and pushed her chair away from the table. “Coming,” she said, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Sherlock assured her as he steered her towards the door. “You’ll see.”

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Short chapter, but only because with the kind of luck that I have, my allergies weren’t allergies at all but a horrible cold instead, go figure. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will be honest and say that I did enjoy writing it for you guys. Tell me what you thought below!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Holly, 2/22/2014_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

“Molly!” Mrs. Holmes exclaimed when Sherlock had opened the door. “It is _so_ good to finally meet you, dear! Why, I feel like I know you already! Sherlock always talks about you whenever he bothers to calls us.”

 _“Mum!”_ Sherlock said a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. _“Please!”_

“What? I’m only telling the truth, Sherlock. You do talk about Molly when you call us. Doesn’t he dear?” Mrs. Holmes asked, addressing her husband.

“Quite a lot,” Mr. Holmes agreed. “But he talks about John and Mary in equal parts. And sometimes, he doesn’t talk about things that make sense at all, at least not to ordinary folk like me.”

“Where’s Mycroft?” Sherlock asked quickly.

“Oh Mycroft,” Mrs. Holmes said, waving her hand in the air. “That boy just dropped us off at the front porch and drove off, said something about having to deal with important state business or something like that.”

“He would,” Sherlock muttered, completely annoyed with his older brother even though he had known Mycroft would do something like this.

“Why don’t you two come in and have some breakfast?” Molly asked, quickly defusing the situation. “We can get better acquainted over coffee.”

“That sounds lovely,” Mrs. Holmes agreed, looping arms with her new daughter-in-law. “Now tell me dear, have you and Sherlock discussed children yet?”

 _“Mother!”_ Sherlock said, trailing them.

“Now Sherlock, all I want to know is if I’m going to have grandchildren or not,” Mrs. Holmes replied innocently.

“Well, you aren’t going to get them mother,” Sherlock told her.

Mrs. Holmes laughed and shook her head. “Oh Sherlock—”

“I’m being serious,” Sherlock answered. “We aren’t going to have any children because it isn’t that kind of marriage.”

“Not that kind of marriage?” Mrs. Holmes frowned. “What on earth do you mean it isn’t that kind of marriage Sherlock?”

“This marriage isn’t a traditional type of marriage,” Sherlock explained. “We live together like husband and wife, but we don’t—”

“I see,” Mrs. Holmes said, her frown deepened. “Sherlock dear, may I ask you a question?”

Sherlock sighed and folded his arms across his chest, looking up towards the sky. “If you must.”

“ _What_ in _heaven’s_ name are you thinking!?”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock asked, looking at her with bewilderment.

“What in heaven’s name are you thinking?” Mrs. Holmes repeated, raising to her full height and meeting her son’s eyes. “Entering into a marriage like _that_?”

“I don’t think you understand—” Sherlock said.

“You’ve got that right!” Mrs. Holmes retorted. “But then I don’t understand a lot of things about you, but this tops them all! What kind of red-blooded male would even _suggest_ marrying a lovely young woman like Molly and keep it strictly platonic?”

“It isn’t exactly like that,” Sherlock told her. “It’s a little more than a platonic relationship—”

“How about we go into the kitchen and get that cup of coffee?” Mr. Holmes suggested to Molly. “I think they’ll be a while.”

Molly nodded and smiled. “Okay,” she agreed, slipping away from Mrs. Holmes and leading her father-in-law into the kitchen.

**.**

“So, tell me why would _you_ agree to the sort of marriage my son propositioned?” Mr. Holmes asked as Molly plied him with coffee and an endless supply of pancakes.

Molly flushed pink at his question and then she shrugged. “Because he offered.”

“I see,” Mr. Holmes said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Dear, I hope you don’t mind me asking this. . . but didn’t you think anyone else would offer?”

Molly shook her head. “No. No, I really didn’t think anyone else would ask me. And I didn’t really see what was wrong with agreeing to it. I thought it would be better than spending the rest of my life alone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, dear. I love my son, but sometimes he can be a bit silly. Rather, his ideas can be a bit silly.”

“And you think this is one of them?” Molly asked, sitting down and sighing. “Entering into a loveless marriage with a woman that he barely likes?”

Mr. Holmes laughed. “Oh, he likes you enough, love. We hear about you often enough for me to dispel any doubts about _that_! And I actually don’t think this is one of his sillier ideas, but I do think that you both need to be on your guard or you’ll both be in deep trouble eventually.”

Molly frowned again and was just about to ask him what he meant when Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes burst into the kitchen.

“I’m hearing what you’re saying dear,” Mrs. Holmes was telling him. “But I still don’t understand _why_ you did it.”

Sherlock sighed as he pulled a mug down from the cabinet, he sloshed some coffee into it and handed it over to his mother. “Then I’ll try and explain it to you one more time! I asked Molly into a marriage of companionship because neither of us gets hurt this way. You keep silly things like love and passion and lust out of the equation, and then our chances of a broken heart go down considerably.”

Mrs. Holmes shook her head. “I won’t argue with you about it anymore, dear. I don’t like your reasoning, but I understand why you’re doing it. I’m warning you though, if you do anything to hurt her, we’re going to keep her and get rid of you.”

“Well, good riddance,” Sherlock muttered.

But Molly knew that he didn’t really mean it, she knew that his parents annoyed him to death but he still wanted them around.

“Would anybody else like some breakfast?” She asked, quickly trying to defuse the tension that had risen.

“Yes mother,” Sherlock echoed, steering her to a chair. “ _Would_ you like some breakfast? Molly made enough for everybody.”

“Well, I guess so.”

When breakfast was over and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had settled in, they told said they were going to do some shopping. Then Molly and Sherlock were left alone.

“Molly, I am sorry about my mother,” Sherlock said as he watched her clean up the kitchen. “I thought for sure Mycroft would have called her and told her all about the particulars of our marriage.”

“It’s okay,” Molly assured him.

“They like you though,” Sherlock told her.

“I’m glad,” Molly replied as she put the last of the pancakes away and leaned against the fridge. “I mean, I really wanted them to like me.”

“Me too,” Sherlock admitted. “I mean, I knew they were going to like you. It would be hard for anybody _not_ to like you. . . anyways, I am going to retire to the living room. Wait and see if any clients show up today.”

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll be in here if you need anything.”

**.**

A little while later, Molly joined Sherlock in the living room.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” She asked. “Or are you just going to sit around all day and wait for clients to show up?”

Sherlock put down the book he was reading and sighed. “I guess we could go for a short walk, if you want to. I’ll just tell Mrs. Hudson to tell prospective clients to wait for me while I’m away.”

Sherlock left to leave instructions with their housekeeper and then a short while later, they were strolling the streets of London together. Molly chatted about her work and Sherlock was content just to listen to her talk as he put in his best effort not to let his mind wonder. He was glad when there was a lull in the conversation and he could encourage her to go on with her story.

They stopped for lunch on their way back to Baker Street and she asked him questions about her new family. He did his best to fill her in, but he was pretty sure that he didn’t paint them in the best light. If she was shocked, she didn’t let on. She just smiled and took a sip of her tea then asked him what his favorite memory from his childhood was.

Much to his surprise, he found himself telling her all about Red Beard. When he was done, she released a breath and sat back, studying him for a moment. Then she smiled and touched his hand, thanking him quietly for letting her in.

Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly as he realized _that_ was exactly what he had been doing. It especially surprised him when he realized just how easy it had been to do that with her.

They walked home in silence.

**.**

There weren’t any clients waiting when they got back to their flat. But Sherlock’s parents had returned from their shopping spree and were sitting in the living room, talking to each other in hushed whispers.

“Are they talking about us?” Molly asked.

“I doubt it,” Sherlock answered. “They’ve always been like this, even when I was a little boy, they were getting lost in their own little world.”

“They must really love each other,” Molly said, glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged. “They really love each other. Come on, let’s go and tell Mrs. Hudson that we’re home. It’s going to be a while before they realize we’re here.”

“Okay,” Molly agreed, taking another look at the scene playing out in front of her.

Somewhere inside of her she had a deep sense of longing for what her in-laws shared. But she didn’t dare hope for it, didn’t dare put a name to it.  Didn’t give into the yearnings she had harbored ever since she was a little girl. Not for Sherlock’s sake and especially not for her sake.

Giving in could only mean trouble in the long run. And she didn’t want to see the end of the one good thing in her life.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> A few things, I’m still sick. So, once again I apologize if this chapter was not up to par. My mind seems to be all over the place these days. Secondly, I am building a soundtrack for this story, I will let you know when it is finished and where to find it. Third, I am sorry that it is taking so long for Sherlock/Molly to actually happen. I promise though, it WILL happen. Fourth, you can still follow me on tumblr if you haven’t yet, my handle is browneyesparker (or maybe beautifullyflawed). Lastly, if you enjoyed this chapter then please leave some feedback in the box below. I’m looking forward to seeing your reactions!  
> Until next time.
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 2/26/2014_


	7. Chapter 7

**.**

**Chapter 7**

The older Holmes stayed a total of five days before making their excuses and going back to their home in the countryside. Molly was sorry to see them go but at the same time, she was ready to fall back into the established routine that she had created with Sherlock. And she knew that her husband would be a lot more comfortable now that their marriage and his life choices wouldn’t be under scrutiny by his mother.

“Well, that was fun,” Sherlock said sarcastically as he settled into his chair with a book.

“Now Sherlock, your mother only wants what’s best for you!” Molly chided gently. “She only wants you to be happy.”

“I am happy though,” Sherlock told her. “Aren’t you?”

Molly looked a little surprised by his question and then she nodded. “I am. I’m very happy,” she answered.

“Well then,” Sherlock said, turning his attention to his reading.

“Sherlock,” Molly interrupted.

“Mmmh, what is it?” He asked, not looking up from his book.

“I’ve been thinking that we should have John and Mary over for supper.”

“Yes,” Sherlock commented. “It has been a while since we spent time with them, hasn’t it? And it is normal for married couples to spend time with other married couples, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Molly answered. “But then I’ve never been married before.”

“Invite them if you’d like,” Sherlock said. “We should visit with them before they become parents and their social lives completely disappear.”

“I’m sure being parents aren’t that bad.”

“Believe me, one day they’ll be having dinner with us and the next they’ll be too busy dividing their time between ballet rehearsal and piano recitals. Then we’ll be having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with their little Sherlock while they go out all by themselves.”

Molly’s lips quirked into a half-a-smile. “I don’t think that they’re going to name their daughter _Sherlock_ , dear. And who knows, maybe you’ll like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Hardly,” Sherlock retorted.

“Well, even if you don’t, you’re going to like their daughter. I’m sure of that,” Molly answered. “Don’t even try and deny it.”

Sherlock peered over his book and made a face at her. “I’m sure I won’t like her. I’m almost determined not to, actually.”

Molly’s smile had reached her eyes as she tried not to giggle. “If you say so, Sherlock. I’m going to call Mary and then start dinner. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“Mmmh,” Sherlock answered. “Fine.”

“Is there anything particular that you would like for dinner tonight?” Molly asked.

“Not particularly, no. Now if you’d please, I would really appreciate if you would leave me to my reading.” He paused and made sure to look at her. “Really, I’ll eat whatever you make.”

“Okay then,” Molly said.

“Thank you,” Sherlock answered before looking down again.

**.**

“We’d love to come for dinner tomorrow night,” Mary agreed. “As far as I know, we don’t have anything going on. I mean, John doesn’t really want me to go far since we’re so close to the due date but I think I could convince him to go across town and have a meal with friends. So, how was your visit with in-laws? It went well, I hope.”

“It got off to a bumpy start,” Molly answered, smelling a tomato before rinsing it off. “Sherlock’s mother wasn’t too happy about our arrangement, but I think she likes me.”

“Of course she does!” Mary replied. “You are all things sweet and kind. Any women would be _lucky_ to have you as a daughter-in-law, regardless of the circumstances of the marriage!”

“I guess,” Molly said. “Anyways, Sherlock is happy that they’re gone now. He was tired of her scolding him for marrying the way he did. She seems to think we’ll both regret it.”

“Maybe,” Mary agreed. “But then you most likely won’t. You two are perfect for each other, it’s only a matter of time before Sherlock Holmes detects _that_.”

“I don’t know Mary,” Molly replied, tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder. “I think he’s pretty set on _this_ always just being a marriage of companionship.”

“Give it a little bit of time,” Mary encouraged. “And then if it doesn’t play out the way you’d like for it to, you’ll just have to start dropping some major hints, men are men, dear. Even when the man is as smart as _your_ husband is. Listen, I have to go. John’s home, I’ll see you tomorrow though.”

“Okay,” Molly said. “Have a good evening.”

“You too, darling.”

“So, are they coming over tomorrow night?” Sherlock asked, startling Molly as she hung up the phone.

“Yes,” she answered, recovering quickly and fixing him with a look. “Really Sherlock, you need to stop sneaking up on me like that! Please.”

“Sorry,” he said in a tone of voice that indicated he wasn’t very sorry at all.

“Were you listening in on my conversation?” Molly asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“No,” Sherlock lied smoothly. “Of course not. Why would you even think such a thing?”

She laughed. “ _Why_ would I think such a thing? Oh Sherlock, the answer is simple, it’s because I know _you_! You’re always dying to find something out.”

“Well. . .”

“Come on,” she interjected. “Now that you’re here, you can help me make dinner.”

“Is this punishment for listening to your end of your conversation or something?” Sherlock grumbled.

“Something,” Molly answered cheerfully. “Now come on, with your help dinner will be ready in no time at all.”

Sherlock liked to think he had agreed to help just to get her off his back, but he knew that it wasn’t true. He never really backed down from a challenge, he never gave in to anybody easily or even at all. But here he was, backing down from his wife, giving into her requests easier than he had given into anybody who had come into his life.

He hadn’t wanted to give into Irene Adler this easily and a year ago, a foolish part of him had fancied that he was in love with the gorgeous dominatrix. He didn’t think he was in love with Molly, but being with her made him realize that whatever he had felt for the Woman had been just pure unadulterated lust. And that the relationship he and Molly shared was so much better than the one he had shared with the other woman in his life.

He was lucky.

He had gotten the one thing that most couples worked to hold on to after passion and lust faded. He’d gotten the real deal and even though he didn’t really believe in it, he considered himself lucky.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
> Author's Note:
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter posted. Last Saturday I received some shocking news that completely threw me through a loop. I’ve been walking around in a daze for five days now. My health is fine, but my heart and soul aren’t. I can’t give all the details, but I hope that is enough explanation for my absence. Anyways, please tell me what you thought of this chapter. I tried to keep it as upbeat as possible under the circumstances.
> 
> Holly, 3/6/2014_


	8. Chapter 8

“Sherlock, would you please be a darling and go clean off the kitchen table?” Molly requested. “Our company will be here in less than twenty minutes and your latest experiment is still all over the place.”

“Molly please, it’s _just_ John and Mary. They’ve been here lots of times and the flat’s actually been worse than this!” Sherlock replied, not bothering to look up from his book.

“Then where do you suggest we eat?” Molly asked. “The living room floor?”

“Why not?”

“Sherlock, you can’t very well ask a _pregnant_ woman to eat on the floor!” Molly answered. “Please, this is our first time having company together. I really want it to go well.”

“It’s just John and Mary,” Sherlock repeated, finally looking up at her.

 _“Sherlock!”_ Molly said, folding her arms across her chest and looking at him sternly.

Sherlock didn’t stir, he had done her bidding one too many times and he wanted to feel like he could still do whatever he wanted without a woman dictating every move he made. Or every move he _didn’t_ make, for that matter. But then, he made the mistake of looking at her.

“Fine, I’ll go and do it now!” He replied, rolling his eyes as he stood up.

“And would you please take your bathrobe off while you’re at it,” Molly requested.

“I am _not_ going to take off my bathrobe too!” Sherlock said. “John’s seen me in it lots of times, I don’t see why it matters anyways. It’s just John and Mary.”

“Fine, you can wear it!” Molly relented with exasperation.

Sherlock felt like he had successfully won a battle with his wife, but as he watched her walk away his victory felt hollow. So, after a moment he reluctantly pulled off his robe and brought it to their bedroom like she had requested.

He didn’t know why he did it and he definitely didn’t like it, but all of that paled in comparison to seeing her upset at him.

He’d just hung his robe when there was a knock on the front door.

“Molly, they’re here!” He shouted.

“I know!” Molly shouted back.

“I’ll get it!” Sherlock told her.

“That’s okay! I’ve got it!” She replied.

Sherlock came out of the bedroom and smiled at her. “It’s just John and Mary,” he reminded her.

“Sherlock, I told you that you could keep your robe on!” Molly replied, looking surprised that he had changed his mind.

“I’ve decided that I am going to pick and choose my battles, Molly. And wearing a robe to dinner won’t be one of them.”

Molly recovered from her shock and smiled at him. “Well, thank you for doing that. It really means a lot to me.”

“Are you going to get the door?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh right,” Molly said, throwing the door open and welcoming a tired looking John and a very pregnant Mary into their home.

When they were all settled in and their coats had been hung up, Molly took Mary into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock and John to catch up in the living room.

**.**

“So, have you and Molly. . .” John trailed off and smiled at his friend.

“What? Are we a couple of high school boys who we have nothing better to talk about than our conquests?” Sherlock asked, peeved with his best friend. “To answer your question, we _haven’t_. We haven’t needed to either, everything’s working out just fine without it, thank you very much.”

“Has anybody every told you that you’re a very strange man?” John asked.

“Frequently,” Sherlock replied.

“I thought by now you would have changed your mind about all that,” John said. “You two are married and living in close quarters, and Molly isn’t that unattractive. If you were a weaker man then—”

“Yes, well I am _not_ a weaker man. And since you have a wife of your own, please refrain from making comments about mine.”

John shook his head. “You are the only man I know who doesn’t want other men complimenting their wives. I myself rather like it when other men tell me that they find Mary pretty. I know that I’m the one lucky enough to go with her at the end of the night.”

“Other men finding my wife attractive hardly bothers me,” Sherlock said. “But why go around talking about it when there’s nothing they can do about it?”

John shook his head. “Well, all that aside, I still don’t think you’re going to hold to your ridiculous arrangement. I’m sure by this time next year, you and Molly will be married in more than name only.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Sherlock retorted tartly.

John smirked. “Yes, yes we will.”

There was an awkward pause and then Sherlock changed the subject.

“You need to stop worrying John. Mary’s a strong woman, her and the baby are going to be fine.”

“Whatever made you think that I’m worried about Mary and the baby?” John asked. “I could be unusually stressed at work.”

“Yes, but you don’t look like you do when you’re usually stressed at work. When you’re stressed because of work, you get these lines between your eyebrows, a sure sign that you have a migraine caused by stress. Tonight, you just look tired.”

“Just you wait until you have your first child,” John said.

“I’m not going to have a child, remember?” Sherlock replied. “But I have been considering adoption.”

“Really?” John asked. “And does Molly know about _this_ development?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I was seriously considering it. And do I _really_ have to talk to Molly about everything I want to do?”

“Yes!” John answered. “She’s your wife! I can’t buy a pair of socks without consulting Mary about the purchase.”

“How lovely,” Sherlock said. “Your wife has you whipped.”

“The same goes for _your_ wife,” John answered slyly. “Mary and I heard your conversation while we waited for you two to answer the door. Really Sherlock, changing out of your dressing robe just because she asked you to. The old Sherlock would have never—”

“Oh, I am still the old Sherlock! I just have a new fixture in my life.”

“You talk about her like she’s the wallpaper or something that you can easily get rid of if you get tired of her.”

“Are you _not_ tired of discussing my personal life yet?” Sherlock asked. “You don’t hear me badgering you about how you’re whipped or if you’ve slept with her yet, or whatever else it is that you’re going on about.”

“Okay, okay!” John rose his hand in defeat. “We can change the subject. Have you gotten any good cases lately?”

Sherlock sighed. “All of them have been a three at best, I can easily solve them all from right here. The only case that really has been of _any_ interest to me is how one little project can turn into redecorating the whole flat.”

John laughed. “They’ll do that to you. It’s like a sneak attack. And then they’ll tell you that they’re doing it by themselves. Then the next thing you know, you’re spending Saturday browsing antique markets for good deals. But the place is looking way better than it did when I lived here. I guess all it always needed was a little love and a whole lot of feminine touches.”

“I guess,” Sherlock conceded. “It’s mostly Molly though, I only consulted with her on a few things like our bedroom and the living room because those are the two places that I spend the most time.”

“Well, it looks like the perfect blending of the two of you,” John told him. “You’re lucky to have somebody like her, Sherlock. Molly knows you pretty well.”

Sherlock didn’t agree with him aloud, but inwardly every part of him screamed that his best friend was right.

**.**

“That was nice,” Molly said as she washed dishes and Sherlock lingered over a cup of tea when their friends had left for the night. “We should do things like that more often.”

“We should,” Sherlock agreed absent-mindedly. “I’m sorry I don’t have a lot more friends for you to do this with. Maybe Mycroft could scare up a girlfriend for the night or something.”

Molly laughed. “I don’t mind, really. Having scads of friends is a little overrated anyways. And I do have a few girlfriends, you know. I’m sure they’d be willing to have dinner with us even though you probably wouldn’t be interested in the company of their husbands.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Sherlock answered, wrinkling his nose at the thought.

“Really, I’m happy with it just being the two of us,” Molly told him. “I could always spend one-on-one time with my friends. I don’t want to see anybody uncomfortable.”

“Especially their husbands,” Sherlock teased her.

“Well, of course!” Molly answered, smiling at him.

Then Sherlock got up and helped her dry dishes without even being asked.

**TBC. . .**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry for the long delay in updating. I’ve been processing the past three weeks and taking some time for myself. If you’re still around, thank you for your patience with waiting. Your well wishes and support mean a lot to me. Tell me what you thought of this chapter in a review.
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 3/21/2014_


	9. Chapter 9

_My Dearest Sherlock,_

 

_I have been thinking about you quite a lot lately. Life here in Charleston is proving to be quite dull, the great state of South Carolina is indeed beautiful and her people are indeed a cheerful, welcoming bunch. But days on the beach and nights eating at some of the most expensive restaurants in the city still doesn’t hold a candle to fish and chips with you. I am tiring of my lover and his endless pocketbook. He bores me, has gotten to be so familiar to me. He has nothing on you, my dear. I know exactly what to expect from him. You always kept me guessing, everything was a mystery with you. Darling, if you could get away from England for a while, I would love to see you and show you this strange new land I am endeavoring to call home. I know we did not part on the best of terms, but I want to make it up to you. Please come to me, come to me and I will beg for your forgiveness. I will try and make you the happiest man that there ever was._

 

The letter went on from there, getting more and more graphic with each paragraph as she mapped out exactly what they could do once they were together again. Sherlock crumpled up the risqué letter and shoved it into his trousers pocket, his mind reeling in disbelief. He knew she probably didn’t know he had married since their parting, but her invitation still disgusted him.

 

Mostly because he had no desire to be the go-to rebound guy every single time the beautiful dominatrix tired of whatever inamorato she was currently entertaining. In the end, she would always find somebody she claimed to like better. Somebody wealthier or prettier than he was. There was always somebody more intriguing than he was somebody more adventurous. She would wander off and then get bored within a matter of months then she’d show up at his door, begging his forgiveness.

He gave the paper one more hard scrunch for good measure and nodded his head in satisfaction. She had pulled him in for the last time; there was no way he was going to take her back. Especially not now, not when he had finally found something good and lasting with somebody who deserved for him to keep his wedding vows even though they were technically married in name only.

He got up from his armchair and went in search of her. He found her in their bedroom, placing baby clothes into a brightly colored gift bag with a picture of a smiling snowman on it.

She looked up. “I’ll be finished with these things in just a second and then we can go to the hospital to see the newest edition to the Watson family.”

Sherlock nodded and picked up one of the bibs, turning it over and over in his hands. “Take all the time you need. Mary, John and the baby will still be there whenever we get there.”

“Did you get anything interesting in the post today?” Molly asked. “You were looking through it for a while.”

“Nothing of consequence,” Sherlock lied. “Just some bills and an advertisement for hair growth vitamins. One of my friends in California wrote me a letter and invited me to come and consult on cases with him for a while during the summer. He promises that we’ll never get a case under an eight.”

Molly laughed. “Sounds like its right up your alley.”

“You could take some time off from the morgue if you wanted to come with me,” Sherlock said, tossing the bib to her. “We never got an opportunity to go on a honeymoon and California has some really nice places to visit. I could help my friend out during the week and on the weekends, we could go exploring.”

“Are you sure you’d like to do that though?” Molly asked.

“Of course!” Sherlock answered. “We’d just need to find something for you to do on the days I’m busy.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could find _plenty_ of things to do. I haven’t had a proper holiday in ages. I think having some time to myself _without_ any dead bodies would be absolutely lovely.”

“Well then, it’s all settled. I’ll call my friend and tell him that we’re coming to California.”

“Okay. Well, I’m ready to go now.”

“Good. Let’s go then,” Sherlock said, the letter from Irene burning a proverbial hole in his pocket as he picked up the gift bag without asking. “If we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss visiting hours.”

**.**

After they had arrived at the hospital and Sherlock had made a show cooing over the Watson baby, he pulled John out into the hallway to talk to him.

“I heard from Irene,” he told him in a low voice.

John furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“She wrote me a letter,” Sherlock answered. “She’s bored and wants to get back together.”

“Well, I hope you told her _no_!”

“I haven’t even replied to her,” Sherlock retorted. “And for your information _Dr. Watson_ , I was not even thinking about doing so. I’m not about to cheat on my wife. My father and mother did raise me better than that.”

John’s lips twitched. “I’m sure they did, but would it be infidelity? You and Molly are only married in name.”

Sherlock paused for a second and then lifted his chin defiantly. “That doesn’t change anything. I’m still her husband and she is still my wife. And even if I weren’t attached, there is no way I would go back to that _snake_.”

“Well!”

“Irene Adler is an easily bored temptress! Oh if only I had realized this a whole lot sooner, I would have been saved a whole lot of misery.”

“Oh come now, I’m sure you got a little bit of a thrill from being her rebound boy! It certainly kept things interesting around Baker Street when you were.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then released a breath. “I’m just going to pretend she never wrote me.”

“You better burn that letter Sherlock. You wouldn’t want Molly finding it and getting the wrong idea,” John told him.

“Why Watson, I never thought you could be _that_ sneaky!” Sherlock replied, looking impressed.

“I just have your best interests in mind,” John answered. “If Molly found out and you didn’t tell her about it, she might think you were cheating on her.”

“You think I should tell her that I’ve had a correspondence from Irene?”

“It might be the right thing to do,” John said. “She is your wife after all. You don’t want to keep a lot of secrets from her. Unless it’s the good kind, like a present for Christmas or a surprise party on her birthday.”

“But I’m not planning on writing her back!” Sherlock insisted.

“Well, it’s your life. Do whatever you want with it. Come on, we better get back to the ladies. They must be wondering where we are by now.”

**.**

It turned out; Sherlock didn’t tell Molly about the letter from Irene. Oh, he considered it for a moment but after much deliberation because he couldn’t see any upside in telling her about it. He deleted the whole ordeal from his mind palace and went on with his life.

**TBC. . .**

  
**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Yes, I have been planning on throwing Irene into the mix this whole time. Actually, this is one of the scenes I would rewrite over and over in my head when I was first plotting this. Anyways, looking forward to your feedback!
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 3/31/2014_


	10. Chapter 10

**Part II - Molly**

**Chapter 10**

_Two months later_

“He’s driving me crazy,” Molly told Mary as they ate lunch at a little bistro down the street from St. Bart’s. “I thought by now we would be more than husband and wife in name only.”

“Oh Molly!” Mary laughed as she adjusted Charlotte in her arms and then took a bite of her salad. “Men like Sherlock can’t figure these things out by themselves. They need a little help, a gentle little shove when it comes to matters like these. He probably wants to, but he’s scared silly.”

Molly shook his head and took a long sip of her diet soda. “He treats me more like a roommate than his wife. Sometimes I think he was just looking for a replacement John!”

Mary laughed again. “ _Oh Molly!_ I hardly think you’re a replacement for John! He never looked at John the way he looks at you.”

“And how does he look at me?” Molly asked. “When I’m looking all I can see is friendship and maybe a strange sort of admiration. And I can tell you, he isn’t admiring me because I’m a woman.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Molly replied. “It’s like he is immune to all women, except for Irene Adler.”

“That isn’t true,” Mary insisted. “He married _you_ not Irene. When did all these self-doubts start to creep in? You two seemed so happy two months ago, you were so sure of yourself and the choice you had made. What changed?”

“Nothing!” Molly answered. “Nothing’s changed and that’s the problem. I thought I could marry him and we could fall in love later on, but we’re still friends and nothing else. I’m _so_ frustrated Mary, I’m about to burst!”

“You don’t like the situation you’re in then change it!” Mary said. “Tell him exactly what you want and make him see reason! Make him an offer that he can’t refuse.”

Molly got a far off look in her eyes as she chewed on a breadstick. “An offer he can’t refuse? But how would I even begin to do that?”

Mary smirked. “You’ll think of something. Sherlock didn’t choose _you_ for nothing, you know.”

  


.

  


Molly paced up and down the kitchen, waiting for Sherlock to come home from the case he had been working with Lestrade. It had been a three, but the DS had insisted her husband go along for the ride all the same.

She was glad, it had given her time to think about what she was going to say to get Sherlock to see her as more than his wife-in-name only. The only thing was, she had had hours to think about it and she hadn’t come up with anything that would tempt him. She sighed, raked her fingers through her hair and told herself that she was a strong woman. She could definitely ask her husband to honor his marriage vows and she could do it without batting an eyelash too. It was her right to ask him to.

She startled when the door open and half hoped it was Mrs. Hudson coming to see if she wanted to share dinner with her since Sherlock wasn’t home. But her fragile hope was shattered when Sherlock himself came into the kitchen, mumbling something to himself about Lestrade’s stupidity and incompetence as a DS. (Something Molly knew that he didn’t really mean.)

  


He straightened and smiled when he saw her standing in front of him. “Oh, hello Molly. I didn’t know you’d be home already.”

“I only had a half-day today, remember?” Molly reminded him. “I told you about it over a week ago, Sherlock.”

“Ah, I suppose you did.”

Molly sighed. “I guess you weren’t paying attention. You were working on the Rolling case and you rarely ever hear me when the case is a ten.”

Sherlock shrugged as if to say _whatever_ and went over to the refrigerator. “Do we have anything to eat? I’m quite famished.”

“I’m sorry?” Molly asked.

“I was just wondering if we had anything to eat,” Sherlock repeated. “I’m starving.”

“Oh dinner,” Molly said. “Um, I didn’t know what time you were going to be home so I didn’t bother cooking. I could throw something together for you now, if you’d like or we could go out to eat . . . if you want something more than eggs and bacon.”

“Eggs and bacon will be fine,” Sherlock said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Molly nodded and pulled out the ingredients for their quick dinner.

He was halfway through eating his dinner when she told herself to stop acting like the cowardly girl she was when they had first met and just tell him what she wanted.

  


She waited a beat and then took a deep breath. “Sherlock, I want to consummate our marriage.”

Sherlock choked on his tea. “Excuse me!?”

“You heard me!” Molly said, not blushing for a second. “I think we should consummate our marriage.”

“But Molly we agreed. . .” Sherlock trailed off, quickly schooling his features into a mask of cool disinterest. “We both agreed that we weren’t going to do that. Our marriage is much more. . . you know how I feel about that.”

Molly refused to be embarrassed by her request, refused to back down. “But Sherlock, we’ve both had time to think about it. And I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to live like this anymore. . .”

“I’ve had time to think about it and I still like where we’re at. Things like that only get in the way of more important things.”

“More important things?” Molly repeated her mouth pressing into a thin line. “What do you mean it distracts from _more important things_!?”

Sherlock stopped for a second, getting the distinct feeling that he had just put his foot in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from continuing on. “More important things like crafting your mind and trying to build a handful of really good friendships. Because those are things that you can always count on.”

“Not true!” Molly answered. “Your mind can betray you. Do you know how many Alzheimer's patients that I’ve had to do autopsies on? Do you know how many friends I’ve lost? Most of them are still alive and well, living their own lives.”

“But if they were really your friends then they’d still be in your life!” Sherlock insisted. “Don’t you see what sex does? We haven’t even had it and we’re fighting because of it.”

Molly pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “No we’re not because I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Sherlock asked. “That’s ludicrous; you don’t have anywhere to go. Besides, I’m leaving for California tomorrow. Who’s going to take me to the airport?”

“I’ll send John to do it,” Molly said. “Maybe this trip is coming at a good time. We can take a break and reevaluate, figure out what we really want from this relationship.”

“You’re still going to join me in California though, just like we planned right?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t know,” Molly answered, crossing her arms. “It depends.”

  


And then she was gone, leaving a very confused Sherlock all by himself.

  


.

  


“I tried, Mary. I really tried, but he just isn’t interested in me that way. That’s perfectly clear after our conversation over dinner tonight.”

“I’m sorry Molly, truly I am. But you’re not going to let your marriage dissolve over an argument are you? I’m sure you two can work things out, you _should_ work things out. You two are good together. Everybody can see that.”

“Maybe,” Molly said. “But would _you_ agree to a loveless marriage?”

“No. But you did,” Mary reminded her. “You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to marry him.”

“Yes,” Molly admitted. “Yes, I did. But I thought he would change his mind.”

“Yes, John and I did too. But you should still wait it out and see what happens. Maybe some time apart will do the trick and then you’ll be in his arms when you join him in California.”

Molly sighed. “I wish I shared your conviction. But I’m almost positive that it won’t happen.”

Mary smiled and patted her on the knee. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. Won’t we?”

“Well, I guess so.”

“Have a little faith, darling. You know, stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger things than a man like Sherlock falling in love?” Molly asked. “I will only believe _that_ when I see it, Mary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I’ve had a bunch of stuff going on. All unrelated to the issues that kept me from posting in February, I am still dealing with that issue to but it is getting better. Anyways, I had a review from somebody and they said that Sherlock was out of character, which is half on purpose. But it still rankled me and took away some of my inspiration to continue on in this story, but here I am again. We’re in the homestretch now, I hope you’ll tell me what you thought of this chapter. Looking forward to hearing from you.


	11. Chapter 11

.

Chapter 11

She found the letter from Irene when she was weeding through his dirty clothes, trying to find things to bring to him because he had run out of clothes in California. The blood in her veins ran ice cold when she saw it, she didn’t have to open it. She knew exactly who it was from. 

With shaking hands, she took her phone out and dialed Mary’s number, she didn’t know what else to do. She thought if she didn’t call somebody she was going to curl up in a ball and suffocate. 

Mary answered after the third ring.

“Hello Molly, all ready for takeoff tomorrow? I’ll come over and we can grab a bite to eat, you wouldn’t want anything you cook to go bad while you were in the States. . .”

“Mary,” Molly interjected. “Mary, I think that he’s still seeing Irene.”

Mary laughed. “Whatever are you talking about darling?”

Molly looked down at the crumpled paper in her hands. “Sherlock. . . I think that he went to the United States to be with Irene and not his old friend in California. Remember, Sherlock doesn’t have any friends, he said so at your wedding. He said it plain as day, John is his only friend.”

“Molly, darling, I think you’re being just a bit paranoid. Sherlock wouldn’t go off and have an affair with somebody. And he especially wouldn’t have one with Irene. Listen, I’m hopping into a hack right now, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. We can talk then. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Okay,” Molly said. “Thank you Mary. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing,” Mary replied. “I was coming over anyways. It really isn’t an inconvenience at all.” 

.

“Are you sure that Sherlock is with Irene?” Mary asked after they’d settled into a corner table in a little pub. 

“Well. . .” Molly trailed off. “No, I didn’t exactly read the letter. But I can tell, a woman can always tell when something like this happens. Can’t she?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mary admitted. “I suppose she could. But only if the gentleman in question has ever given her reason to doubt before. And Sherlock hasn’t ever given you a reason to doubt him, has he?”

“Well, he never seemed interested in me. . . not in that way at least.”

“But that’s just Sherlock being Sherlock. It doesn’t mean he’s having sex with Irene, darling. You know how he feels about feelings.”

“Yes,” Molly answered. “But what if that was just a facade?”

“Why would he marry you if he could have Irene?” Mary replied. “It just doesn’t seem to make any sense. I think you need to give him the benefit of the doubt. Go to California tomorrow, talk to him. But don’t be accusatory, I’m sure that the truth will reveal itself. And if you find out that he has been unfaithful to you, then getting an annulment should be easy. You have nothing to lose, you two are married in name only.”

“But I have everything to lose, Mary. I’ve already lost the most important thing. I’ve lost my heart, the Lord knows I tried to hold onto it. But the truth is, I lost it the very first day that I met him in our first class together at university.” 

“Then you have to try and make it work out,” Mary said, taking Molly’s hand. “Make him lose his heart to you. You might regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t. Be gentle with him, ask him about Irene but make sure he doesn’t think you’re accusing him of having an affair. And make sure you listen to him, truly listen to him.Don’t look for holes in his statement or validation. Promise me that you’ll do that, darling.”

“I promise,” Molly said. 

“Thank you! Now finish your dinner like a good girl then I’ll come and help you finish packing.”

.

Molly landed in Sacramento after a flight that had lasted over ten hours. Sherlock wasn’t waiting for her when she got there, even with the time difference, she hadn’t wanted him to wait for her. She was afraid that her coming would conflict with his work. 

“Are you Molly Holmes?” A petite brunette asked. 

“Um. . . yes?” Molly answered. “Who are you?”

“Teresa,” the woman replied, sticking her hand out for Molly to shake. “Nice to meet you. Your husband is working with my friend, he asked me to come and pick you up because he didn’t want you to have to find your way around California by yourself.”

“Oh. . . thank you,” Molly said. “But aren’t you busy? If Sherlock is working with your friend then you both must be involved with police work. . .”

“My second in command is making sure that those two don’t get into too much trouble,” Teresa answered. “Besides, they’ve pretty much gotten the case solved. They’re just tying up some loose ends. I’ll be back in plenty of time to book the bad guy.”

“If you're sure. . .” Molly said uncertainly.

“I am! Come on, I’ll help you with your luggage. My mustang’s just out front. We’ll grab something to eat and then we’ll get you settled into the hotel. Sherlock entrusted me the key to his room.” 

“Thank you.”

“Of course!” Teresa answered, taking the handles of her largest suitcase. “Come on and follow me, Molly.”

They stopped for Mexican on the way to the hotel. Molly picked at tortilla chips and sipped on diet Coke as she watched Teresa eat a taco salad. 

“I haven’t eaten all day!” Teresa said around a mouthful of lettuce and sour cream. “I’m going on ten hours of coffee here. Jane’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

“Jane?” Molly asked, furrowing her eyebrows together. 

Teresa swallowed. “Patrick Jane, he’s my consultant and Sherlock’s old friend. I have no idea how they know each other though.”

“I don’t know either,” Molly said. “Up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t know Sherlock had any friends.”

“Funny, Jane said the same thing about Sherlock when he found out that he was married,” Teresa answered. “I guess he keeps you guessing.”

“He does,” Molly replied, dryly. “It isn’t a good thing though. At least meeting you means that he’s really here.”

“You thought he was somewhere else?” Teresa asked. 

Molly blanched, realizing that she had said far too much to the stranger sitting in front of him. She had no way to save herself from this awkward situation. So, she shrugged her shoulders and lifted her chin up. 

“What about you and Jane? Do you two have a thing?” She asked brazenly. 

“Nope,” Teresa answered, pushing her empty plate away. “Come on, you must be exhausted after your trip. Let’s get you to your hotel. Unless you’re hungry, then I can wait for you to eat something.”

“No,” Molly said. “I’m not hungry, I’m just tired.”

They drove to the hotel in silence, save for an old standard playing on the radio.

“Jane likes old music,” Teresa explained, not even bothering to turn the music down. 

And YOU like Jane, Molly thought to herself. You think you conceal it so well, but I’ve been in it long enough to recognize when somebody else is in the throes of it. 

But she didn’t say it aloud, she didn’t need anybody else to know about her baggage with Sherlock Holmes and she didn’t want to make the cute agent anymore uncomfortable than she already had, so she left it alone.   
.

“I’ve never ever met two people so dense as Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon!” Sherlock muttered to himself as he came into the hotel room. “Oh, hello Molly. So glad to see that you got here safely. I trust you liked Agent Lisbon well enough.”

“She’s lovely,” Molly answered. “And so accommodating, she took me to get supper before dropping me off here.”

“Oh good,” Sherlock said. “Jane was about to have a conniption because she hadn’t eaten all day.”

“He knew about that?” Molly asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “She didn’t think he did. . .”

“Of course he knew about it! There’s very little that he doesn’t know about her. I think the only thing he is oblivious to is the way she feels about him. Which is all very well, because he ignores his own feelings for her very well! Stupid people.”

“Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?” Molly challenged. 

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

“Never mind,” Molly answered, powering the TV down and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. When I come out, I want to talk to you about something.”

Sherlock frowned. “That doesn’t sound too good. I take it that I’m not off the hook for rejecting you a couple weeks ago?”

“It still stings a little,” Molly admitted. “But no, that isn’t what I want to talk about.”

“Well, don’t make me try and guess what it is. Tell me,” Sherlock said. “Before you take your shower. . . please.”

“Fine then,” Molly replied, even though a part of her wanted to make him go mad with wondering what she wanted to talk about. She picked up her carry-on bag and ruffled through it, pulling out the crumpled letter from Irene. “Sherlock, what’s this?”

“I-I don’t know,” Sherlock answered honestly. 

“Really? Because I found it in the pocket of your trousers when I was sorting your laundry.”

“Then it must be something I deleted,” Sherlock said. “Because I have no recollection of what that is.”

“It’s a letter,” Molly told him. “A letter from Irene Adler. I didn’t read it, but I recognized the writing from that time you had me pick up your mail for you. You have to remember that, you were on an assignment from Mycroft.”

“Yes. . .” Sherlock answered. “I do remember that.”

“Sherlock,” Molly asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and giving him a hard look. “Are you having an affair with Irene?”

“Am I having an affair with Irene!?” Sherlock repeated in shock. “No! I haven’t seen Irene since she left me for her American lover. Besides, I’m far too busy to have an affair. I barely have time to be married!”

“Wrong answer,” Molly said, dropping the note on the bed and standing up. 

“I mean. . .” Sherlock trailed off, for once in his life he was lost for words. He didn’t like the feeling. “I’m not having an affair with Irene or anybody else. Affairs are undignified and for silly men who don’t realize that they’ve got a good thing right in front of them. Affairs are beneath me, you should know that!”

“And apparently so is being married! If you just wanted a replacement for John, why didn’t you put out an advertisement in the papers? Because that’s all I am really! A convenient replacement for your best friend. Except, I share a bedroom with you and do the jobs Mrs. Hudson doesn’t have time for!” 

“Molly, Molly you’re being irrational. If we could just talk about this. . .”

“Talk? All we ever do is talk! And sometimes we don’t even do that! Well, no more. I’m done with it. I’m done with you. I’m going back to England tomorrow, Sherlock. When you get home, all of my things will be moved out of 21 Baker Street and the annulment papers will be started.”

“But Molly. . .”

She shook her head and went over to him, pecking him on the lips. “No, don’t say anything Sherlock. I know you don’t want to hear it, but we were both fools for entering into this marriage in the first place. We both wanted entirely different things from it. It was silly to think we would get them. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Molly,” Sherlock said, following her to the door. “Molly, don’t go. . . please, I want you to stay. . .”

“Oh Sherlock,” Molly whispered, shaking her head. “If only that were enough.”

After she left, she realized her mistake in leaving the hotel room. She didn’t have any American money on her, so there wasn’t any way for her to get a room for the night. With a sigh, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the card Teresa had left her with. She didn’t want to call the agent, but she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t ask any questions and that’s what she needed the most.

She went to the desk and asked the hostess if she could use the phone.

It wasn’t until Molly was safely in Teresa’s guest room that she allowed herself to grieve, the tears coming down unabashedly over another failed relationship as she told herself that it was for the best.

She knew that there wouldn’t be another one. Because she was going to spend the rest of her life loving Sherlock Holmes.

TBC. . .

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to decide if I was going to repost this in the cross-over section. I decided against it because the Mentalist characters only make a brief appearance in this chapter. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that if you aren’t a Mentalist fan, you could still follow the gist of the story. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mary came and helped Molly move her things out of Sherlock’s flat. They didn’t talk much, there was nothing left to talk about. Everything had already been said, she had already told her all the right things to do. And Mary loved the both of them equally; it was hard for her to see the marriage break up. She had hoped so hard that it would work for them. 

John showed up with dinner, he was chattier than Mary was. He told Molly that he had spoken to Sherlock and that the consulting detective wouldn’t be contesting the annulment. For the first time since they’d met, he was going to let her have exactly what she wanted.

Molly guessed she should have been happy about it, but she wasn’t. A small part of her had been hoping that he would contest it. That he would finally show a glimmer of the feelings she had hoped he would have developed for her over the course of their short marriage. She had hoped that the threat of an annulment would have spurred him into action.

But there was nothing. Nothing except his acceptance and that was what she least wanted. 

She sighed as she took in the flat one more time and then shut out the light before following Mary and John to their car. They had offered her a home while she got back on her feet and found a place of her own again. 

She had agreed, knowing there were chances that she would run into Sherlock while she lived with them. He was their daughter’s godfather after all. She shoved her suitcase in the trunk of their car and made a decision to find her own flat as quickly as possible.

.

Except it was more difficult than she thought. Between late nights at St. Bart’s and filing for an annulment, there weren’t enough hours in the day to do it. So, she stayed in the Watson’s little guest room and tried to get on with her life.

They didn’t talk about him in front of her. But she knew the moment he came back from California, knew that he and John were working on cases together occasionally. She knew that he sort have had an argument with Patrick Jane and that’s why he had come home so early. She heard the whispers when John and Mary had thought she wasn’t listening. 

She knew that she was going to have to see him again, the annulment papers were in her messenger bag, burning a hole in her mind and taunting her. 

So, she called him to meet her at the morgue. She didn’t bother with niceties or greetings, didn’t ask him how the rest of visit to California had been or why he had argued with his friend. She just slapped the papers and a pen down in front of him, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m going to have Mycroft’s attorneys look this over,” he told her. “If that’s okay with you.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “It’s a simple annulment, Sherlock. I don’t want anything from you. There aren’t any kids involved and we never consummated our marriage. All you need to do is sign your name on the places with the tabs and it’ll all be over.”

“Still,” Sherlock said. “Mycroft won’t like it if I don’t let his attorneys look it over. He’s picky about these sorts of things, you know.”

Molly looked at him suspiciously. “You aren’t trying to make things difficult for me, are you?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock answered. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want. I’ll get these papers to you by the end of the week, if not sooner. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get going. I have a pressing case that needs my attention. Goodbye Molly Hooper.”

Molly cringed inwardly, the use of her maiden name rankled her, it proved that he really was giving her what she wanted and she hated it. What was worse was she knew that he knew she hated it. She swallowed her frustration and didn’t even bother to paste on a fake smile.

“See you around Sherlock,” she replied, waving him away with a sweep of her hand.

Sherlock paused. “Molly,” he said. “I hope that one day we can go back to being friends again. . .”

“Were we ever really friends, Sherlock?” Molly asked, pointing towards the double-doors. “Go. . . just go, please!”

Sherlock abided by her request and turned to go, his Belstaff billowing out in his wake. She watched him go with regret mingled with despair. But it was for the best to end things; they would forever be stuck in neutral, never content with what the other wanted. She swallowed her bitterness and went back to work, ignoring the pangs in her heart as she cut open a grandmotherly looking woman and tried to determine the cause of death. 

.

Later that night, she got a call from Teresa. She was calling to check in, to see how things were going. Molly restrained herself from spilling her soul out to the FBI agent; instead she took in the happy lilt of the older woman’s voice and asked her what was going on in her life. 

“Oh Molly,” she answered, barely able to contain her glee. “It’s the most amazing thing. It happened after Sherlock left. . .”

Teresa trailed off abruptly and Molly knew that she was trying to be sensitive for her sake. So, the pathologist finished the thought for her. 

“You and Patrick Jane are together, aren’t you?”

“Yes. . .” Teresa admitted. “I’m sorry Molly; I know it didn’t work out between you and Sherlock. I shouldn’t have said anything. . .”

“No, no!” Molly said. “I’m so happy for you! You deserve to be with somebody who loves you.”

And at least he loves you. . .

“Well, you do too!” Teresa told her, breaking into her thoughts. “Don’t forget that, okay?” 

Molly shook her head and wound her fingers around the phone cord. “I’ll try,” she said. 

“Okay,” Teresa answered. “I have to go, it’s late here. Call me if you need anything. . . even if it’s just to talk.”

Molly smiled in spite of herself. “Thank you. I hope you and Patrick have a wonderful life together. Goodbye Teresa.”

“Goodbye Molly,” Teresa echoed.

Molly hung up the phone and stared out the window at the falling rain. She vaguely wondered what had happened with Sherlock to make the couple get together. She wished that she could call him and ask him, but she had rejected his offer of friendship and that prohibited her from the liberty of calling him to ask for the story. 

She groaned and flopped down on the bed, covering her face with her arm, she wished she could go back in time and reject Sherlock’s proposal. Then everything wouldn’t be so messy, everything would still be okay, and she’d at least still be on speaking terms with Sherlock. They’d at least still be friends and she’d still be pining away for him from a distance.

That would have been better than nothing.

TBC. . . 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we’re almost finished with the story. I’m pleased to announce that I’m going to write a few one-shots revolving Jane and Sherlock, since Jane/Lisbon’s brief appearance was so well received. Be on the lookout for those! And the soundtrack to A Marriage Of Minds as well. In the meantime, leave all your thoughts in the box below!
> 
> Until Next Time!


	13. Chapter 13

Molly found it difficult to settle back into a life that didn’t include Sherlock infiltrating every single inch of it. She missed him; most days she wished that he would come storming back into her life and demand that they stay together. Telling herself that life with him in it was better than a life without him at all. But other days, her resolve would only strengthen and she would realize that if she couldn’t have all of him then she was better off without him, that she didn’t want him at all. 

All she had to do was wait for Sherlock to sign the annulment papers and then she would be free. Forever. She sighed, envying Mary and Teresa their strings and the men who loved them. She wished that she could have fallen in love with somebody who would have fallen in love with her in return. 

She shook her head and hung up her lab coat, making sure that everything was in order before she shut out the light and left for the evening. She needed to move forward, she might not ever fall in love again, but she couldn’t stay stuck in the same rut for the rest of her life.

.

So, she found a flat and moved in on one of her weekends off. John helped her arrange her furniture and Mary brought dinner over. 

“Don’t tell Sherlock,” Molly begged before they left her for the evening. “I’ll talk to him when I’m settled in.”

“Of course not!” Mary promised, hugging her. “It’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Molly nodded and then opened the door for them. She watched as they left together, their arms around one another. When they were on the elevator, she turned back to her apartment and tried to ignore the lonely pang in her heart. 

This is for the best; she told herself, flopping down on her couch and pulling a throw pillow over her face. Really this is for the best. . .

She hated herself because no matter how much she told herself that it was for the best, she didn’t believe it. Not even a little bit. 

.

Sherlock was sitting on their front porch steps when the Watsons got back to their own flat. 

“I’m not going to give Molly the annulment,” he said in way of greeting. “I know it’s what she wants, but I’m not going to give it to her.”

“Sherlock. . .” John said cautiously. “Have you been drinking?”

“Have I been drinking!?” Sherlock repeated. “No, I have not been drinking! I’ve been thinking. And after a lot of thought and some unhelpful prying from an irritating American, I have come to realize that I am in love with Molly Hooper!”

After a long moment of silence, Sherlock got to his feet and folded his arms across his chest, looking at the pair of them crossly.

“Well, aren’t you shocked?”

“Not exactly,” Mary answered. 

“We’ve actually suspected that you love her for a while now,” John added. “We were just waiting for you to catch on. You know for the world’s smartest consulting detective, you can be kind of slow sometimes.”

“But then that isn’t your fault!” Mary said. “You are, after all, a man. And most of the time, men don’t know what they really want or who they really love. Sometimes it takes a person to come along and give them a little shove.”

“I know!” Sherlock said proudly. “I did just that with my friend in California. He was taking an absurdly long time to tell his friend that he loved her. I told him that he was blind to his feelings, and a few days after I returned to London, he called me and told me that I was right. They’re together now; I think he even mentioned that they were talking about getting married. Which is probably a little too soon--” 

“Sherlock,” Mary interjected. “Not that I’m not interested in your friends, I’d like to know when you’re planning on cluing Molly in on your feelings for her. Don’t you think she deserves to know about them? She is after all your wife.”

“Oh right! Well, the reason I came here is because I have no idea how to get in touch with her. And I was wondering if you two did. . .”

“As it just so happens, we do!” Mary answered. “We actually just came from her flat. Now before I give you her address, you have to promise me that you’re really going to tell her that you love her. And that you won’t allow her to talk you out of staying together. I know she thinks it’s what she wants, but you have to convince her otherwise! I’m rooting for you two Sherlock. Don’t mess this up again!”

“I won’t!” Sherlock said. “Now may I please have her address?”

Mary rattled off Molly’s new address and then wished him luck, hardly able to contain her excitement as she watched him practically run off. She crossed her fingers and hoped that everything would finally work out for the couple. 

.

Sherlock paused outside Molly’s new apartment for a second. Taking the elevator and knocking on her door would be by far the biggest leap he had ever taken and he still wasn’t quite sure how to do it. His friend Patrick crossed his mind for a brief moment and he knew, if a man who had lost so much could open himself up to love again, he could most certainly do it. He who had never lost anything or anyone really important to him.

Determined, he gathered up all of his courage and continued onward, not used to the way his heart was beating irregularly or the uncertainty of what was going to happen next. 

When he reached Molly’s flat door, he stopped again before raising his fist and getting ready to knock. Just before his hand met wood, it opened and she was looking up at him. 

“What do you want?” She asked.

“You,” he answered, whatever carefully planned speech he had been reciting subconsciously flew out the window. 

Molly’s eyes widened at his statement. “Me!?” 

“Yes,” Sherlock replied. “I love you Molly. I’ve loved you for a while now. . . it took a pain in the neck American to help me realize it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“A pain in the neck American?” Molly repeated, frowning slightly. 

“It’s a long story,” Sherlock said, hesitating a moment before putting his hands on her cheeks. “And I’ll tell you about it one day. But right now you have to let me tell you how much I regret everything that’s happened since the day I proposed. I should have never suggested that we do what we did. It wasn’t fair to me. . . and it especially wasn’t fair to you. So, if you’re interested then I would like to begin again. I want to try and give you everything I should have from the beginning. I might be bad at it, but I want to try. Please let me try.”

“But the annulment papers. . . I’m sure Mycroft’s lawyer has already looked them over and everything by now.”

“You’re the one who suggested we get our marriage annulled!” Sherlock said. “I was never planning on going through it; I just took the papers and said that to stall for time. I would never involve Mycroft with something as personal as this.”

“Sherlock. . .” 

“I am not going to give you the annulment,” Sherlock said. “I am going to throw all my time and energy into pursuing you. Unless I have to work on a case and even then I am not going to stop. I am going to wear you down until you realize that I am the only person you could possibly spend your life with.”

Molly softened slightly and put her hand on his cheek. “Oh Sherlock, I’ve already realized that you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with even if you weren’t ever going to love me back.”

“I definitely don’t deserve that,” Sherlock answered.

“No, you definitely don’t deserve it. But I can’t help it. Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants, and I find that I want you. So, if you are serious about being married in more than name, I will take you up on your offer and start this whole thing over. But we have to do it right this time; I don’t think I could handle a rerun of the last few months.”

Sherlock shook his head, laughing and sighing in relief as he wrapped his arms around her and held onto her with all of his might. “No. No, I don’t think I could handle it either,” he answered.

They held each other like that for a while, and then Molly slipped her hand into Sherlock’s and brought him into her apartment.

TBC. . .  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is PAINFULLY overdue. But I’ve been SO busy lately and then there was the little matter of my OTP becoming canon on Sunday night. I was so excited, I’m afraid all I’ve been doing is reblogging their kiss on tumblr, and watching it on Youtube. On top of that, we were planning a surprise party for my sister and I was busy with that this week. Yesterday, I went to Starbucks and finally buckled down to write this. I hope you weren’t disappointed. One more chapter left.
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 5/24/2014_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note I:
> 
> Some people wanted “shenanigans”. Well, I will freely admit that I do not write that sort of stuff for several reasons. I do however write smoke and mirror stuff when I am addressing bedroom scenes, so I hope that at least takes the edge off your appetites for it.

.  
Chapter 14

Molly watched him sleeping beside her. After months and months of waiting, they were finally married in every sense of the word. She took a deep breath and hoped that she wouldn’t suddenly wake up and find out that she had dreamt the whole thing. It wouldn’t be the first time, ever since she’d met him, she had dreamed that they were together and woken up completely disappointed because it wasn’t real.

He rolled over and took her hand; he opened his eyes and took her in. She waited with bated breath, waited for him to speak and shatter the “dream world that she was sure that she had created.

“You’re not sleeping,” he finally said. 

“I’m afraid that I’m going to wake up and find out that this is all a dream,” Molly answered. 

“I can assure you that this is not a dream,” Sherlock replied, propping up on his elbow and looking down at her.

Molly played with a strand of hair and avoided his eyes. “I’ve dreamed this so many times, I’m afraid to believe its reality this time around.”

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you. Won’t I?”

“Oh? And just how are you going to prove that this isn’t a dream?” Molly challenged with delight. 

“Like this,” Sherlock answered, leaning down and kissing her nose. “And like this. . .”

Molly closed her eyes while he explored her ear, her forehead, and her cheeks. Her pulse skipped a beat when his lips found her’s and he kissed her so tenderly. She let out a shuddery sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I think you better prove it to me just a little bit more,” she whispered against his mouth. 

And he did.

.

“So, he told you then?”

“Yes,” Molly answered, tucking her phone under her ear and rolling the sleeves of Sherlock’s shirt up before taking out a knife and cutting up an apple. 

“So, you two are together again?”

“Yes, we’re together again,” Molly confirmed, smiling mostly to herself, but completely sure that Mary would be able to hear it on the other side of the phone.

“Good,” Mary said. “I’m so happy for the both of you. I think you need to do things properly now, with a real wedding in church with all your friends and family there, with you in a fancy dress and him in a tuxedo. It’s only right because this time it’s the real thing.”

“I don’t know,’ Molly said. “I mean, we don’t need a big wedding like that. . . do we? You can have the real thing without making it a big deal, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Mary agreed. “But every girl dreams of her wedding when she’s younger. Don’t you want the real thing?”

“Well. . . yes,” Molly answered. “A little bit, but I’m sure that Sherlock wouldn’t want to have the real thing. You know how he is.”

“Leave Sherlock to me,” Mary said. “I bet I could make him believe that having another wedding was his idea.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Molly replied. “I’m going to get going; I want to finish making breakfast before Sherlock wakes up.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon darling.”

“Talk to you soon,” Molly repeated, hanging up with her friend.

She continued to make breakfast, humming love songs to herself as she did and thinking about a life that was altogether different than from the one she thought she would be leading 24 hours earlier. A little while later, Sherlock joined her. 

“There you are,” he said, sitting down at the table. 

“Good morning Sherlock,” Molly replied, smiling adoringly at him. “I made breakfast.”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, I can see that. Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?” Molly asked.

“I could eat.”

“Good!” Molly said, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “Black, two sugars. Just the way you like it.”

Sherlock took a sip and then cleared his throat. “Um Molly, since we’re together again, are you planning on coming back to Baker Street?”

“Of course I am!” Molly answered. “I mean, I’m going to have to get out of my lease here, but I’m obviously coming home with you. A woman’s place is with her husband and that’s where I intend to be.”

“Good.” Sherlock took another sip of coffee and then looked at her again. “Molly, would you like a real wedding in an actual church?”

Molly hesitated for a moment. “Well. . .”

“I heard your conversation with Mary,” Sherlock told her. “So, don’t try and deny it. If a real wedding is what you want, I’ll give it to you. I feel like I have a lot to make up for.”

“Well,” Molly said slowly, plopping down in his lap and giving him a small kiss on the mouth. “Maybe just a small church wedding with just our closest friends and family. How about that?”

“A compromise. I could handle a small wedding, if that’s what you really wanted.”

“It’s what I really want,” Molly assured him. “And then, spending the rest of my life with you.”

“That,” Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around her neck, “is definitely a given.”

Molly smiled and leaned in to give him a full kiss. 

It was a while before they wound up eating breakfast.

.

A few weeks later

Molly clutched the small bouquet of flowers in her hands and took a deep breath as she looked down the aisle and at her husband. This was the day that she was going to marry him again, this time she was marrying him for all the usual reasons a couple got married. Love, sex, a white picket fence (if she could persuade him to give up his flat on Baker Street, some day) and maybe a child or two if they were lucky. They would still be companions, yes. But this time so much more than that was involved.

She was looking forward to every single bit of it. Especially the child part, she pressed a hand to her stomach and smiled at the secret she only knew. She would tell Sherlock when they were alone later, but for now it would be about the two of them.

The piece that Sherlock had composed for her to come down the aisle to started; she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she began her ascent down the aisle, watching her husband as she walked towards him. 

“Hey,” she mouthed when she had reached them.

“Hi,” he mouthed in return as he smiled at her and took her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied.

“Come on you two, everybody’s waiting!” John hissed.

“You’re abusing your position as my best man,” Sherlock hissed back before looking at Molly. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Together they took the last steps to the priest that was officiating their wedding and a little while later, they were vowing to be husband and wife. 

Again.

.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note II:
> 
> I am not making any promises, but I MIGHT do a couple of follow-ups to this story. Thank you for taking this journey with me, I have enjoyed every single one of your reactions to this story. I think it is one of my most favorite and followed fics on this site, the Sherlolly fans are utterly amazing! I hope that we will share lots of stories together in the future. Please leave a review for old time’s sakes. And if you are at all interested, I posted a soundtrack to this story. You can find it on 8tracks under the same username as the one I use on here.
> 
> Hope to see you guys again soon!
> 
> Love,  
> Holly, 6/10/2014_


End file.
